Unseen Messages(95)

I held my frustration...barely. “Just go with me, Co. You don’t have to question everything.”

“Yeah, I do. I know about this stuff and I’m not playing.”

“It isn’t a game.”

“Don’t care.”

My eyebrows rose. “How do you know about counselling, anyway? Why would you know about that stuff?”

He shrugged, full of blustery blasé, but his gritted teeth hinted at glass-sharp memories. “My parents went to a marriage counsellor. I overheard them doing homework exercises and ‘sharing their worries’ so they could be happy again.”

The memory of Amelia and Duncan Evermore didn’t fit with the description of a strained couple. But no one truly knew the inner workings of another’s life.

Pippa sucked in a shaky breath, her eyes filling with tears. “I miss them.”

Immediately, my arm lashed out and snuggled her against me. “And you’re allowed to miss them.”

She wiped her nose on the back of her hand. “When will it stop hurting?”

My heart broke. “No one can tell you that, Pip. It’s a time thing.”

She stared at the sand, her little shoulders quaking.

“So how does this work?” Galloway’s voice blanketed my soul, gracefully planting himself on my side of the argument. “What exactly are we meant to do?”

I looked up.

His gaze was locked on Pippa, despair and helplessness on his face. As much as he pretended to be unaffected by the children, he adored little Pippa. And the fact she grieved and he couldn’t do anything about it...it drove him wild.

Knowing he had such capacity to love drove me wild in return.

Why am I staying away from him again?

Why did I sleep alone when I could sleep with him? Why did I punish myself with no contact when I could touch him whenever I wanted?

My reason seemed less and less a deciding factor and more and more like a pesky nuisance.

I cleared my throat, forcing my jackrabbit heart to calm down. “I’ll show you.”

Galloway cocked his head. “Show us what?”

“The magic of washing our worries away.”

Conner groaned dramatically but didn’t leave. For all his ‘I’m too cool for this,’ he was still young enough to value togetherness and joint activities.

I see through you, Conner.

Stepping forward, I held the walking stick ready to write. Everyone fell silent as if I truly had the ability to conjure a spell.

I wished I did.

I wished I had a wand where I could manifest a boat and sail away. Or whimsically wish for a plane to fly home. Or pluck a phone signal from the sky and call for help.

I wanted to see Madeline. I wanted to hug Shovel-Face. I wanted to buy contraception so I could jump Galloway and not be afraid.

But I wasn’t a witch and this wasn’t that sort of magic.

Ducking to look into Pippa’s eyes, I murmured, “What are you most afraid of?”

She flinched.

Galloway growled, “You really think that’s a good question to ask?”

I hushed him. I had doubts, but this had helped me. If it helped Pippa, then I was willing to take the risk.

Pippa glanced at her brother, silently asking for help.

Conner splayed his hands, but his face was encouraging. “Go on, Pip. What are you most afraid of?”

She scuffed her toes in the damp sand. “You won’t make fun of me?”

Conner pointed at his chest. “Me? No, I promise. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Pippa jolted at the word ‘die’. I had no doubt that those three little letters had been irrevocably tainted for her.

Finally, she filled her lungs and announced, “I’m afraid of sleeping.”

Everyone jerked.

Sleep.

The black recharging shroud we needed and loved had become her personal demon.

I remembered Pippa’s terror at us going to sleep and never waking like her parents. But I didn’t know she still suffered. Motherly instincts wanted to tell her not to be afraid. That sleep was one of the safest things a person could do. I wanted to remind her of the beauty of dreams and rejuvenation of the best nap in a patch of sunshine.

But that wasn’t for me to do. That was for her to remember.

“You’re very brave admitting that.” I kissed her forehead. “Now, I want you to write that in the sand.”

“Why?”

“You’ll see.”

“I don’t know how to spell sleep.”

“I’ll help you.”

Together, we traced wonky cursive in the wet beach. The sentence came alive before us: I’m afraid of sleep.

I also added the line: but after tonight, I don’t need to be afraid anymore.

Once the last word had been finished, Pippa let go of the walking stick and I motioned for Conner to come closer.

He did, although reluctantly.

“Now, it’s your turn.” I passed him the pen. “What are you most afraid of?”

He shuffled on the spot. “Uh...that I won’t be able to play tennis again because of my wrist.”

I wanted to ask about his tennis past. He’d mentioned he played over the course of our island imprisonment. We’d even attempted to play cricket with sticks for wickets and a log for a bat. I loved learning about him because it brought him to life, all while Galloway remained in the shadows unwilling to share.